Crossed Wires
by keru.m
Summary: Getting it all wrong, but still managing to get it right.


Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

**Crossed Wires**

Harm leaned back in his chair as he stared out the window. He couldn't concentrate. To be honest, he'd had a hard time concentrating on anything for some time now. Ever since Mac had requested that TAD assignment on the Guadalcanal. He'd been losing her and nothing he did seemed to bring her closer to him. In fact, all his efforts seemed to have the opposite effect. He'd been fed-up enough to suggest that they'd reached the end at the JAGathon. To his never-ending surprise, Mac had offered him her hand and suggested they start back at the beginning.

He'd been too relieved at the time to process the full implications of her words.

What the hell did she mean, back at the beginning?

Did it mean that the slate was wiped clean of the animosity tainting their more recent interactions, or did it mean that they were back to a point before things got too complicated for them to be in a relationship? After all, if he thought about it, when she'd suggested they go for it back in Sydney it could have worked, couldn't it? She seemed to think so, if her comments at her engagement party were anything to go by.

Things had been a lot less complicated back then. They'd been the best of friends and he'd liked her and she'd liked him. But then, were things really so complicated now? He still liked her. A lot.

But they barely spent much time together and were unsure around each other, either trying too hard to feign familiarity or not trying hard enough to revive the solid foundation of their friendship. Maybe that was the problem.

They were over-thinking it.

She'd asked him once what he really wanted, and he'd said to never lose her. Truth was, what he really wanted was to actually have her.

Maybe he needed to be a bit more spontaneous and a lot less tentative with her.

He was so concerned about being her friend that he wasn't really being himself around her. And since when was he so wishy-washy about things? Hell, he knew one of the reasons he'd been upset with her after their meeting on the Guadalcanal, one of the reasons he'd been such a jerk before the JAGathon was that he didn't want to be tentative with her. It was all or nothing. He'd wanted her – all of her, the whole of her – and she'd put him off, saying she needed time, assurances. He didn't get it all, so he'd told himself he wanted nothing.

Well, no more of that. He wanted it all, and he was going to get it.

In fact, he was going to go ask her out this very moment, consequences be damned. He wouldn't even let himself think about it.

Harm abruptly stood up from his chair and marched out of his office.

Game on.

--

Mac leaned back in her chair, staring out the window. She'd been working on a deposition, but was feeling rather uninspired. Her thoughts kept drifting, so she finally gave in and just took a break from work to indulge in the musings that were holding her attention hostage.

Musings centered on her best friend. She wondered if he still considered himself her friend. After her failed relationship with Mic, Harm's dip in the Atlantic, their horrendous encounter on the Guadalcanal, his callous remark about her personal life to a co-worker who was a stranger to her, and then their tentative agreement to start at the beginning – an agreement reached at her insistence when he was ready to call it quits – she didn't think he saw her as anything near a close friend.

Maybe a colleague. A passing acquaintance. Or the dreaded 'someone I once knew'. They didn't spend much of any time together, and never unless it was work-related. The latter netted her a few awkward, stilted dinners where they were out of sync with each whenever they weren't actively talking about work.

She missed having someone whom she could just talk to, feel comfortable around. She had never really had that kind of a connection with anyone. Except perhaps with her Uncle Matt, and that was a relationship he'd worked very hard at forging when he was making her dry out. She'd been mad as hell at him at the time, downright mean to him, but he'd persisted and she'd had no choice. Red Rock Mesa was a hard place to carry out a successful escape from after all – she had tried to run away more than once, in fact, driven by her addiction. But he'd been steadfast and in doing so had taught her one of the most important lessons of her life.

She'd realized it only when she'd joined boot camp. He'd taught her the essence of any meaningful relationship: sticking out the bad times. After all, not everything was rosy all of the time. No one was perfect and all relationships had their weak points. This meant that the true test of one's regard for another, the true measure of one's loyalty to another person was not raising the white flag when giving up was the easier thing to do.

So Harm would remain her best friend through this horrible time when it seemed they existed on different planes and their paths rarely crossed. She'd wait this out until he was amenable to actually being her friend, in practice and not only in theory. In the meantime, she'd be his best friend in act and word, and hope that he cared enough to acknowledge it. One thing she did know, their overformal behaviour around each other was exhausting. At least for her.

A loud knock sounded at her door, causing Mac to swivel her chair around.

Speak of the devil.

"Harm," She smiled warmly, as a best friend would.

"Hey, Mac." His eyes flitted from her face to the poster on the wall to the leafy tree just outside her window. He shifted from one foot to the other, and placed his hands on his hips.

It reminded her of their exchange at the office after he'd kissed her at her engagement party, when he'd tried to apologize. Hope fluttered in her heart. He was going to reach out. She'd just been thinking about it, and here he was actually doing it.

"You, um..." He trailed off studying her face carefully. "You look tired." He finally said.

It was as though he'd read her thoughts. That hadn't happened in a long time.

She wondered if he felt the same way as her. He looked like he did. "So do you."

"How about dinner?" He asked suddenly, his eyes darting from hers to the floor. "Tomorrow night? Saturday." He cleared his throat.

Mac's smile widened, suffused with genuine affection. It was amazing how they were suddenly so in sync, so on the same page. She'd wanted her best friend back, and now here he was offering his friendship to her. Although he didn't need to feel so nervous about it: she'd genuinely meant it when she'd offered to start back at the beginning and work on building their friendship from there. If his refusal on the ferry hadn't been enough a clue, his readiness to call an end to whatever romantic interest may have developed for him after that refusal made it clear enough to her. At this point, she'd be happy just having his friendship back.

"I'd love to," She readily agreed, wanting to put him at ease.

It worked. Her quick acceptance brought a wide grin to his face. The familiar spark of arrogance returned to his eye, even as he loosened with relief.

"Great." He crossed his arms over his chest, cocky as ever. "I'll pick you up at 1930."

She hid her confusion at that last bit. Normally, they met at the restaurant on those rare occasions they weren't just sharing take-out or a Rabb's Famous something-or-other at his place.

One day she'd ask him why he named everything he cooked after himself. But for now, she simply nodded.

"Okay. Sounds great." She knew she sounded far more enthusiastic than she'd ever done in the past over invitations for shared platonic dinners, but she really wanted to encourage this sudden shift in his behaviour.

"See you tomorrow, Marine." He gave her his most charming smile.

"Tomorrow." She almost called him Flyboy, but decided it might be too much, too fast.

He turned around, and headed back to his office with a bounce in his step.

Mac smiled at his retreating form. Finally, things were getting back to what they'd been.

--

Harm stood outside Mac's door. He adjusted his tie, checked to see that his suit jacket was buttoned up properly and that his shoe laces were tied. He fluffed the bouquet of flowers in his hand, but it just caused some leaves and sundry to fall off their perches and onto the hallway carpet. Harm frowned. He should've bought her normal flowers like roses instead of listening to the woman behind the counter. She'd said this was the latest rage in bouquets, but it just looked like some freak art exhibit to him. And now crap was falling on the floor and onto his freshly polished shoes.

He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and bent down to wipe his shoes. He also brushed his hands over the carpet to disperse the bits of stuff that had fallen, hoping Mac wouldn't notice.

He straightened himself and returned his handkerchief to its pocket. He adjusted his tie, checked to see that his suit jacket was done up right and that his shoe laces were tied.

Satisfied, Harm took a deep breath.

Alright, Hammer. Charm her socks off.

With that pep talk in mind, he put a smile on his face and knocked on Mac's apartment door.

--

Mac tied the knot to her halter dress behind her neck. She gave herself an appraising glance in the mirror. It was a very casual dress, but probably still too much for a friendly night out with Harm. The last time she'd worn a dress – well it was a skirt, really – to a dinner out with Harm, it had been in Australia. And he'd shot her down.

Mac sighed. Maybe she ought to change into something like overalls.

But she'd worn a starchy uniform all week, and she convinced herself she deserved this. She loved the feel of a loose hem floating about her knees, her shoulders bare. Besides, she had the cutest shoes to go with this dress. She'd just forego any jewelry and heavily understate the make-up. Just some blush and lip gloss so Harm wouldn't think she'd gotten the wrong idea and run right for the hills. Maybe she'd forego the lip gloss, too, just to be safe.

Mac slipped on her really cute shoes just as his knock sounded at her door. She smoothed the front of her dress with her palms and took a deep breath.

Alright, MacKenzie. Remind him why he used to like having you as his best friend.

With that pep talk in mind, Mac marched out of her room to open the front door. Well, she didn't actually march. Her dress made her feel too feminine, and her shoes were too cute for marching anyways.

Mac pulled open the door, grinning at the thought of a comfortable, casual evening in the company of her best friend.

What she saw made her jaw drop.

Harm was standing at her door in a full suit – tie included – carrying a really odd flower arrangement. His shoes even looked freshly polished.

She was mortified. He'd asked her out on a date? And she'd misread _that_? What kind of moron was she? And now she was underdressed and he'd think she wasn't interested and he'd be embarrassed and this was going terribly, horribly wrong.

"Am I early?" He looked thoroughly confused, and just as surprised. "That hasn't happened before." He added. He glanced at his watch, and his frown deepened.

"I did say 1930, didn't I?" He looked her up and down. His confusion faded, replaced by admiration. "You look beautiful in that dress," He said reverentially.

She stared at him wide-eyed. How the hell had she missed these kinds of signals? She was truly an idiot of the first order.

"I, ah, I thought you said 2000," She lied through her teeth. "Just let me get changed. I won't be a minute," She said hurriedly, already turning to go back to her room and find something to wear on par with his full suit. With a tie.

His frown returned. "You're doing that lip upturn thing..." He trailed off as realization dawned. "Wait. You thought I ... You thought we..." His face fell, his bouquet-laden arm dropped to his side sending a flutter of green bits to the floor.

Harm looked at the guilt on Mac's face, the embarrassment in her eyes, and tried to mask his own embarrassment. He'd just made a complete and utter idiot out of himself. He'd put on a full suit – and a tie, dammit – and bought her flowers which he never, ever did for a woman unless he called her by someone else's name in bed, and he'd come knocking on her door all set to charm her socks off ... and she was wearing an incredibly casual – though stunningly beautiful – dress. He was completely overdressed.

He was such an idiot. He'd ruined everything. She was probably trying to decide whether to pity him or laugh at him.

"Maybe I should just, uh, go." He figured he should leave before he turned to spite to cover his utter humiliation. How the hell could she do this? He'd been pretty clear, hadn't he, when he'd asked her out? And she'd smiled at him as though she knew exactly what he'd meant.

He'd have to completely overhaul his game plan. If he ever got over the humiliation of this attempt. He hadn't felt this embarrassed since his junior year of high school.

He turned around before he made any more of a fool of himself, set for his walk of shame down the hallway, when Mac's hand wrapped around his arm holding him in place.

"No! Wait," She said hurriedly. She tugged his arm, and he summoned his pride to turn around and face her.

She searched his eyes. "Harm, I thought you didn't ... I mean, you said we were at the end." She stumbled over her words, something she rarely did, looking helpless. It gave him a measure of hope.

"I thought it was what you wanted."

Shock registered on her face. "What?!" She exclaimed. "Me? I thought it was what you wanted."

"But you blew me off on the Guadalcanal!" He protested with a swipe of the bouquet. A flurry of flower and plant bits shot out before spluttering to the ground.

"You were still dating Renée." She rebutted.

"You put off our talk indefinitely." He pointed a finger at her.

"You didn't tell me you and Renée broke it off. I thought you didn't want me pressuring you!" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Me! You said you felt pressured!"

"I just wanted some time!"

"You stopped talking to me!"

"_You_ stopped talking to _me_!"

They looked at each other for one long moment, assessing the other, before suddenly breaking into a joint laughter. Both had the grace to look ashamed.

"I guess we messed up, huh?" He said fondly. They really were terrible at this kind of thing.

"Big time," She replied, eyeing the flowers.

"Here," He offered her the flowers. "These are for you."

She smiled a bit shyly as she took the bouquet. She fluffed the arrangement and he watched as more bits of plant fell to the ground and onto her shoes. Very nice shoes, he noted. Stupid flowers. She'd think he was too cheap to by the good stuff.

Her smile wavered slightly with confusion at the mess the stupid bouquet was making. "They're ... different." He lip did that upturn thing.

Next time, he decided, he was going to go with roses.

"The lady at the flower store said this is all the rage in horticultural circles." Harm defended.

"Oh, right." She nodded. "I think I read about it in a magazine." Her lip was still doing that upturn thing. Harm rolled his eyes. Women. They could be so hard to please.

She looked up at him then with a genuine smile, full of warmth. "Thank you."

He grinned. Or maybe they weren't all that hard to please.

"You're welcome." He realized he was still standing in her doorway, one foot in the hall. He entered her apartment and shut the door.

"So," He arched an eyebrow, eyeing her up and down. He really did like the dress she was wearing. He wanted to kiss her bare shoulders. "Either I'm overdressed or you're underdressed."

She cocked her head to the side, giving him a once over. With a brisk nod, she set the flowers on the table by the entrance and stepped up to him. She began unknotting his tie. Suddenly, he was very glad he'd worn it. The way her slim hands were moving around his collar, and the way silk fabric of the tie slid from around his neck as she removed it felt very ... nice.

She unbuttoned his top two shirt buttons, looking him in the eye with a mischievous glint as she did so. He took the liberty of putting his hands on her hips, his lips twitching with an involuntary smile. This was going incredibly well for their first date, he thought.

She slid his jacket off his shoulders, her eyes still not moving from his, and he was all set to untie the knot at the back of her neck to free her from her dress.

He removed his hands from her hips as she slid the jacket off his arms. He bent down and placed light kisses up her jaw. Her skin was so soft. She tasted so good, so sweet.

She dropped his jacket on the back of the couch, and he slid his hands up her arms towards that tempting knot.

"Roll up your sleeves." She instructed.

Her words pulled him from the fog of arousal. He looked at her blankly.

"What? Why?" How would that help him remove his shirt, he wondered. Or maybe this was part of some fantasy of hers.

She frowned at him, amused by his confusion.

"It'll look more casual," She said, indicating her dress. "Then we can go out for dinner." She paused as a thought struck. "Unless you made reservations at a black tie restaurant?"

Harm stared at her. His eyes drifted towards her bedroom. He thought...

She slapped his arm, realizing where he was looking.

"Harm!" She said indignantly, "I was fixing your clothes! Not, you know," Her hand gestured towards her bedroom.

Oh. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He tried very hard not to look towards her bedroom again.

She watched him thoughtfully as he brought himself back to reality. Unexpectedly, she started to laugh. "We're terrible at this."

He chuckled. At least they could find the humour in this.

"Well, maybe practice makes perfect." He suggested.

She nodded, still laughing.

"Or maybe," He cupped her face in his hands, looking intently at her. "Maybe we just need to get back in sync with each other."

"How?" She whispered, her intensity matching his.

He brought his lips to hers, giving her a kiss that contained the full measure of his intentions. She melted at his touch, her hands slipping around his waist.

He pulled back to assess the success of his attempt. She was breathing a bit heavily. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, her eyes were glazed.

He raised an eyebrow in query.

"Mmm," She murmured, looking up at him. "Good plan."

"I thought so too," He grinned, "And we agree, which means it worked." He kissed her again.

His hands drifted to the knot of her dress. He tugged lightly at it, and Mac immediately grabbed his hands. He looked at her, confused to find her once again laughing. So much for his plan working.

"I don't come that easy," She teased, dark eyes dancing with delight.

He thought that nothing about getting to this point had been easy. This was the most comfortable he'd seen her be with him in a long time; his best friend was right in front of him

"You'll have to take me out to dinner first," She was flirting with him in a way he found to be irresistible. The woman of his dreams was right in front of him.

The least he could do was feed her, he conceded. She'd need it for later anyways.

"Alright." He gave her a dramatic sigh, which elicited the laughter he was looking for from her. He grinned. "Let me just roll up my sleeves."

"There," She said once he was done. "We match."

"We do," He agreed. "Shall we?" He offered her his arm.

She accepted, wearing a warm smile.

"Let's."

--

The end.


End file.
